


Falling Asleep With a Book on Your Chest

by konoyo



Category: Monster of the Week (Tabletop RPG), Seven Miles (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Other, idk I just got stuck thinking about some soft domesticity don't sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25831678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/konoyo/pseuds/konoyo
Summary: 24.634530, -81.776176, some time in 2020. A small, yellow house on an island.
Relationships: Valentine Ewing/Stefan Bennett
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	Falling Asleep With a Book on Your Chest

Pearl Key - the house on it, anyway - is quiet, especially in the mornings. The wind and the distant calls of seabirds are the only things that join Stefan on the roof for a cup of coffee and a smoke he shouldn't be having. That's fine. They aren't the type to tell. Above, the dome of the sky looms clear and hollow, not a cloud in the sky except for the train of thunderstorm columns that Stefan can watch as they follow the Key islands off in the distance. They're far enough away that the large, drifting train of mountains are easy to see in their entirety as they flatten themselves just above the buildings, rain starting to pour here and there, even birthing an occasional waterspout before breaking up as they are swept out towards the west, leaving a patchwork of white brushstrokes high up in the air for the rest of the day.

At times like these, it feels like living in a snowglobe, watching the weather pass like it can't affect you, far removed from the actual Keys. The boat sways placidly where it's tied up to its mooring. They aren't so far removed after all, it reminds. Just safe, with a vantage point on who might be coming to visit. That's what Val would say, anyway. Stefan stubs out the very last bit of his cigarette and heads inside.

The upper floor is filled with light but not much else at the moment. Currently, the beds are made, neat and orderly, the big dining table folded away out of sight, a couple of slightly forgotten plants leaning against the corners. Nothing is out of place, besides the, at this point, permanent string lights and a couple of boxes stacked in the corner that Val still hasn't decided what to do with. It's always like this, caught in the moment between crises or parties, always waiting for someone to come and bring life into it. There's no reason to linger here too long.

Downstairs is where life really begins. Stefan almost trips on Oscar, who is lounging just under the staircase after his morning meal, the absolute worst place possible. He sighs, slides him over the smooth floor with a foot so he's at least kind of visible when you're coming down the stairs. Oscar doesn't mind and Stefan leaves him to his relaxation, taking a left into the bedroom.

He'll leave the door open as he steps through. Val will probably close it at some point later but the room could use a breeze. The quiet is comfortable in here, muted and dark just like the sunlight that's sneaking its way through the heavy red curtain. Stefan will push open the window just a little, to let in some sea breeze while it's not too hot.

Val is still in bed, asleep, which isn't unusual. They have their head buried between the pillows and Stefan still doesn't know exactly how they breathe like that. There's a laptop balanced precariously on the bedside table, the prosthetic arm set right on top of it some time around what Stefan could guess was 3 or 4 am. It's around 9 am now. That is their rhythm: Stefan gets the mornings, Val gets the nights, working on god knows what it is that brings in an apparently absurd amount of money. Finance analytics for companies in China or Singapore, last Stefan heard. To hear Val talk about it, it was some sort of position born out of nepotism and the barest minimum they had to do to keep their father off their back. It certainly involved a lot of spreadsheets.

Sometimes Val will mumble something and Stefan will stop, sit on the mattress and run his fingers through Val's hair or let Val wind their arm around his waist and pull him into bed. Val will kiss him and mumble something sleepily, sometimes about the smell of tobacco, sometimes a bad dream, but mostly they just tuck their forehead against Stefan's chest and go back to sleep for ten or so minutes. It's cute and Stefan lets himself drift off as well sometimes, comfortable.

Today, they're fast asleep and Stefan continues on through the storage closet, into the kitchen, leaving both doors open to let in the smell of coffee and breakfast. Summer is there to greet him at the window, hoping for scraps like eggshells or bacon.

The kitchen is shady and cool in the morning, it's windows facing north, out towards the gulf. Waves break in a thin white line over the reef, halfway to the horizon line. Summer chases away a particularly brave seagull by tugging at its tail feathers until it's too annoyed to stay within her territory.

It doesn't take Val long. They'll typically shuffle into the kitchen and wrap their arms around Stefan's waist, pillowing their head on his shoulder, peering down at what Stefan is up to. Or they'll lean on him, shoulder to shoulder, one hand balancing their newly made cup of coffee. A sleepy Val is an overly affectionate one, even more so than they are usually. There's no hectic energy, no glint in their eye, no hawk like focus. Just kisses and nuzzles and pet names, gratitude like Stefan's done magic instead of simply pouring a bunch of eggs into a hot pan. They're very sweet, and sometimes whatever Stefan is doing ends up just a bit burned, but even that's alright in the end.

Those are the mornings. They don't usually change, not unless there's something amiss, and Stefan wonders, sometimes, if they might wane after a little while. Somehow, he doubts it. Despite everything, Val always needs reassurance. That they're still pretty, that they haven't messed up, that they're still loved. And they're not afraid to give that same thing back, every morning, like the time they spent asleep was somehow an eternity and Stefan might have developed some doubts.

If there ever were doubts, there aren't anymore. Well, no. There are doubts about what will happen when - not if - Val runs afoul of something that they can't handle and will hurt them. Gods and monsters and powerful people with grudges. But not about his feelings. Or Val's, for that matter. But he's not going to go through the trouble of making Val stop.

He likes being called sunshine and dearest and darling and being the reason Val smiles. He likes the way Val looks to him for an opinion, or blossoms at Stefan's praise. He can hold their gaze now, no matter how intense and electrifying. He likes the way he can pull Val away from something they're doing, even if their full attention is focused on it, by a single belt loop, to get them to eat something or simply for a kiss or drag them into bed if he wants to. It's only fair, anyway, since Val needs only to kiss his neck and slide their hands under his shirt for Stefan to be _there_. It should be embarrassing, maybe, but Val seems to love it so it's not something Stefan is looking to change, either.

The days themselves are usually busy. Stefan needs to insist a little that they take breaks at least on weekends, but otherwise there's always something Val has to do, some project taking up their mind. Sometimes Stefan can help them with that, other times there's some Wardlow business to attend to, whether it's Stefan's name on the chore wheel, or his turn to run the rounds along the Keys. It's fulfilling, he could say. Here, at least, he feels like he's genuinely helping people in the way that doesn't require waving a sword around. People, creatures, gods, even, apparently. Certainly not something he'd seen himself doing even a year ago. It's nice.

The sun sets as they head back to Pearl Key, the light on the dock steady as the boat skims across the periwinkle water. The wood creaks softly as they moor the boat, the hitch knot easy and familiar, as if he never had to learn it. Sometimes there's groceries, other times Val is gesturing about something as they talk, or leaning in close to listen. Occasionally, George will meet them on the dock and demand one of them scoop him up and carry him home. And Val will, no matter how sweaty they are, pick up the big, fluffy cat and let him ride with his front paws on their shoulder, talking to him or giving him smooches as they walk.

It makes Stefan wonder what they'll be like with kids but that's a question he tucks away for later. He's already asked them to meet his family and that has them keyed up enough, asking questions and trying to make a plan, clearly trying to hide that they're nervous. Happy, but nervous.

Val doesn't ask to help with dinner after they come back from their run or their swim, they usually just stay and wait until they are told what to do and how. They're learning, bit by bit, stitching together what they have already been taught together into a skill set that Stefan is confident he could leave them alone and not worry about them being forced to live off fruit alone. They might still do it out of sheer laziness but there's no helping that.

It's back to spreadsheets after that but Val only ever gives those half their attention. The laptop is often balanced on their knee as they're cuddled together on the couch, watching a movie together, or sitting on the table forgotten while they're being entertainment for the cats, energetic as always, even after Stefan is already nodding off.

Val will wait until Stefan is asleep to turn off most of the lights and close the doors. They've gotten better at leaving them open for the cats but night time is an exception. They'll settle in the library or, more often, on their side of the bed with their work, the screen dim enough so they hope they aren't too distracting. Nowadays, they've only been doing the bare minimum. There's always several other tabs open, a lot of them having to do with Indiana. The trip is going to be soon - certainly they don't want to wait until winter, or until some bullshit happens that sends them all into a panic again. Right now, they mostly have a bunch of factoids about the place, which are not going to be helpful but it's something all the same.

Some nights they really just say fuck it and turn off the screen, slide down into bed. The darkness is sometimes soft, sometimes menacing, heavy around them, too quiet. What blankets there are feel uncomfortable, restricting. This is why they would rather simply pass out from exhaustion.

But if they focus, they can hear Stefan breathe, shift beside them but it takes their eyes a while to get used to the darkness and sometimes it takes so long that they'll reach out, open their magic to catch the thread that still connects their pinky to Stefan's somewhere in the ether. It's warm and reassuring in their hand as they finally focus on the outline of an ear, curls falling over the pillow beside them and they'll scoot closer, press their face into the space between Stefan's shoulderblades until Stefan shifts, turns over and his arm goes around them. Then, only then, they can close their eyes.

They don't know how it got this way, how not sleeping went from a simple choice not to waste time to something that was difficult and fraught. But it is what it is and it is also what they make of it. As all things are. Mostly, they try not to think of it and hope nothing happens until the morning. In a couple of hours they can wake up to the smell of coffee, the weight of a ten pound cat on their lower back and a new morning to spend with Stefan. A new morning to love him. A morning that they wouldn't trade for anything else.

Val sighs, shifts and finally, finally drifts off.


End file.
